


uh-huh, on my left

by skatzaa



Series: mcu tumblr oneshots [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Quidditch, Alternate Universe - Security Guard, Alternate Universe - The Scorpio Races, Alternate Universe - Veterinary Student, Furniture Shopping, Gen, Interviews, M/M, One Shot Collection, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pride, Puppy training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-10-28 17:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10836312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: Ficlets that were originally on my tumblr. Length will vary, and some will be not-fics, but most will be samsteve.Ch 1: Furniture ShoppingCh 2: An Interview at PrideCh 3: Team Cap vs Team Iron Man, Quidditch Team EditionCh 4: The Scorpio Races AUCh 5: Puppy TrainingCh 6: Night Security Guard/Vet Student AUCh 7: Police Chief/Humane Society AU





	1. Furniture Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ivecarvedawoodenheart said: "Can we talk about...Sam and Steve picking out sofas for their house? I don't know why but that always feels v domestic and nice to me"
> 
> Sam and Steve go shopping. A not-fic from Tumblr. [Sam/Steve]

“Sam, it has a cupholder and a recliner seat _and_ a phone charger! Built in!” 

“Steve, there is no way in hell I’m having that ugly ass couch in my living room. But that denim one, on the other hand…” 

*

I think they would head to one of those huge furniture places (mostly because I’ve never been to an IKEA before, so I have no frame of reference for that haha), the ones that have approximately five million furniture sets for each room? And they make a bee-line for the living room arrangements because they already have a dining room table from Sam’s family and they’re going to buy a bed next week. 

And it starts out as genuine suggestions, but it quickly becomes apparent that they have very different tastes in furniture. Steve likes the utilitarian leather couches while Sam enjoys the soft, colorful loveseats. So it sort of becomes a competition of who can point out one the other will absolutely hate. 

Steve starts pointing out all of the high tech gadget-y ones, while Same goes for the terrible print, or the ones with fake diamonds all along the edge. They’re really getting into it over a huge, overstuffed, lime green zebra-print armchair when a sales associate clears their throat and pretends they aren’t terrified by these two huge men fighting over an armchair that’s marked down to like a hundred bucks. 

They apologize immediately of course, and end up leaving with a brown suede set of armchairs and a loveseat. (They have another, littler, fight over whether to get a couch, since a loveseat isn’t big enough for either of them to lay down on, but Sam points out that they’re living room actually isn’t big enough for a couch if they’re going to set up an easel for Steve, and that ends that conversation.)


	2. Pride Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ivecarvedawoodenheart said: "Or! Then being interviewed at Pride! How do you think that would go?"
> 
> A not-fic from Tumblr. [Sam/Steve]

hmm…. I’m not sure they would initially be very comfortable (especially if we’re going in my pride run fic universe, since they saw the initial backlash to Steve’s tweet asking about Pride stuff). But I think Steve will always take the opportunity to help people, in any way he can, and Sam is pretty similar in that regard. 

And the reporter that’s covering the event is decked out in rainbows, so they’re pretty sure she’s not going to crucify them over anything. So after a while Sam really gets into it, like, he’s hamming it up about Steve wanted to dye his hair into a rainbow to piss off fox news (”Please quote me on that” “I’m sorry sir, I don’t think that’s allowed” “damn”), and how Steve has never done tie-dye before, which is why his shorts have a spiral right over the crotch, etc etc 

Steve is a little embarrassed, but when the reporter goes to talk to him he’s as earnest as ever, talking about how wonderful it is to have this opportunity, and to be able to go out in public with his boyfriend and hold his hand, and just generally making hearteyes in Sam’s direction, bc they are In Love. 

(Of course, Sam then has to jump in about the fact that Steve’s shirt is so tight because “he likes it like that, I swear, you can quote me on that–” “No, please don’t–” “Please do, it would make my day”) 

But the interview gets run as is. The reporter talks a little at the end about how much of a relief it is to see someone she looked up to as a young person be like her, etc etc (Steve definitely cries when he reads it. Sam smiles and kisses his cheek) 

(This will probably make a lot more sense once I publish the pride run fic lol (WHICH I LOVE BTW))


	3. Quidditch Team AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ivecarvedawoodenheart said: "Okay so say they're on a Quidditch team, it's rival teams with team cap and team iron man - who plays what? I think maybe there are enough people to make full teams (don't quote me I didn't count)"
> 
> Quidditch Team AU. A not-fic from Tumblr. [gen]

hmmmm. I don’t think there are quite enough (I think there’s…. 7? per team), so I pulled in a bonus character for each team. Alright, so, this was hard, but I present, for your consideration: 

****

**TEAM CAP  
**

**Steve:** Beater. Hear me out: I think he’s protective of his teammates, and isn’t above illegal moves in order to stop the other team from hurting his seeker/keeper/chasers. 

**Sam:** Hmm…I think he would probably be a chaser. He takes to the broom like a fucking natural. He has the softest hands on the whole team and only drops the quaffle when he’s too busy bickering with where Bucky is sending the bludgers (usually very close to Sam’s head, because they still haven’t gotten over that incident with Sam’s broom a few years ago…) 

**Bucky:** Beater. He and Steve are the dream team, tbh. They’re brutal; Steve focuses on protecting his team while Bucky targets the other guys. Plus, he has killer aim, an unsurprising amount of rage to work through, and one hell of an arm. Unlike most beaters, he’s left handed, and uses it to his advantage, exploiting angles most teams don’t consider because their beaters can’t manage them. 

**Wanda:** Hm. Keeper? Legend has it she’s only let in two goals in her whole career, and they were both only after she took a bludger to the face and another to the sternum. In a rainstorm. When will your fave ever. (There have been petitions to ban her from the game on the grounds of nonverbal shielding spells, but no one ever has any proof) 

**Clint:** Seeker. He’s not the slimmest seeker in the history of the sport, but his eyesight gives him a leg up on the competition, and he’s pretty good at redirecting the other seeker before going for where the snitch really is. His jokes are really, really bad though, so the other seekers tend to avoid him anyway. 

**Scott Lang:** I’m thinking chaser. He has a reputation with the opposing teams for being here one second and across the pitch the next (they’ve tried to prove that he’s using illegal magic, but so far no one’s caught him at it) (he’s totally an animagus but only uses it when he really has to. Alright, that’s a lie. But don’t tell Cap) 

( **Bonus:** disregard the timeline for a moment to consider Peggy as a chaser. She’ll score on you three times before you even know what’s happening, and she won’t have a hair out of place. The other team is baffled because her lipstick never smudges, even in the pouring rain. She’s also not afraid to ram her broom into yours to dislodge the quaffle, so you have to be on your guard at all times when playing her.) 

****

**TEAM IRON MAN  
**

**Tony:** I’m thinking he and Rhodey would make a good chaser pair, along with whoever their third ended up being. He’s famous with his team for coming up with the strangest plays, but they almost always work, so no one complains too much. 

**Natasha:** I’m torn on her. I’ve already filled the chaser spots, but I think she could be good at that. She would be a vicious beater, and I could see her at keeper but I’m not sure she’s well suited to it. So let’s go with beater, but I’m not entirely satisfied. Sometimes, it’s enough for her to smile at the opposing chaser; they usually drop the quaffle purely out of self-preservation, before she can send a bludger their way. 

**Rhodey:** Chaser! He and Tony are too good of a team to split up. Plus, he certainly knows how to fly. Besides that time one of his own beaters accidentally hit him with a bludger while trying to protect the keeper (and broke three of his ribs), Rhodey has never been hit on the pitch. 

**T’Challa:** I sort of want T’Challa as the third chaser? He’s less enmeshed with Tony and Rhodey as a set, but his skill is impeccable and he’s famous for not letting anything get in his way when he has the quaffle 

**Vision:** This is tough. I think by default I’m down to a keeper? And I think I could see it. He moves so smoothly from goal to goal that his opponents have genuinely gotten distracted before by his expert flying. His intense focus works to his advantage most of the time, but also can be his downfall, because sometimes he misses someone if he’s focusing on another player 

**Peter Parker:** Seeker. Have you seen this kid move? He has ridiculous reflexes and isn’t afraid to do weird things in order to get the snitch first. (Okay but I could also see him as keeper with that logic, so who knows lol) 

( **Bonus:** Pepper as a Beater. Don’t tell me you don’t love it) 


	4. Scorpio Races AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ivecarvedawoodenheart said: "SCORPIO RACES AU WITH MARVEL GO GO GO"
> 
> A not-fic from Tumblr. [gen]

Oooooooh. I’m not gonna make this a direct AU, more like a fusion, so I’m not exactly trying to match characters up to tsr canon. 

Well, we know Steve has something to prove, no matter the universe, and I think his pre-serum self would fit right in on Thisby: not easily turned away, isn’t afraid to do what must be done, does not fear that which can (and will) harm him. He would be our Puck, if I had to assign him a role (but I’m not going to, because they’re similar but they’re so different at the same time). Steve would catch a capall on his own if he had to, but he would also ride in a race meant for water horses with an ordinary island pony, because he has something to prove to the world. But also he’s a little shit like that. 

I don’t think Bucky would race, to be honest. He would probably hold with the races, like most of the islanders do, but I don’t think he would want to risk himself when Steve is already being an idiot about it all. But he would also race if he had to. 

Sam would race, I think. But he would race on a mount he had caught years and years before, who is old and familiar but still deadly, whose magic still calls to him every November. They’re partners more than enemies, but Sam never forgets his capall runs on blood and meat. (He’s reckless, remember, but not unnecessarily so, and he can never forget that the ocean took his best friend.) 

Natasha would race. She would catch a capall out on the ocean, in the middle of a storm, and relish the challenge of it. She would take a horse that’s slippery and in love with the sea and so, so dangerous, and she would use all of that to her advantage. (She is also, incidentally, the town butcher, and can cut your heart out and make you love her for it.) 

Tony would be our story’s George Holly, if our story had one. The rich, eccentric tourist, looking for a thrill, but also to understand something he doesn’t belong to, something he wants to be a part of. He’s carelessly kind and purposefully brash in turn, and the islanders can’t decide if they love or hate him. Probably both, because Thisby is built on dichotomies. Tony will never quite fit on the island, though he wants to, because Thisby doesn’t choose everyone who chooses her. 

Dr. Banner wouldn’t hold with the races, but he would still treat the men and women that were injured by the capaill, because he’s the only sort of doctor the island has. But he wants nothing to do with the horses, and probably for good reason. 

I’m a little undecided with Thor… I can see him being a Brian Carroll-esque figure, solid and dependable and unafraid of the sea, no matter the month. But I can also see him as a tourist, coming to the island (with his brother, the trickster?) to measure his worth against the famed, deadly, beautiful capaill uisce. I don’t see it going well, but I see him learning his lesson of humility here, too. 

Clint is tough too, because canon does him a disservice, I think. I can see him riding in the races as a young man, enjoying the thrill and the danger of it. But I think as he grows older, he would put the races aside (whether that’s for the benefit of his family or not, I’ll let you decide). Maybe he would run a shop full of curiosities that no one but tourists have the money to spare for. He doesn’t mind of course; he also helps Natasha in the butcher’s shop, when she asks nicely. 

Fury would be this Thisby’s Malvern, if such a role existed. I don’t think he would be cruel, as Malvern is, but he is still ruthless and cunning and plays the people around him as though they are pieces in a game no one but him can see. I don’t know if he would run the stable, or own half of the island, but the inhabitants of Thisby are cautious around him nonetheless. Someone hangs a picture of him in the pub, and no one will admit who it is, but no one takes it down.


	5. Puppy Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ivecarvedawoodenheart prompted: “samsteve training a dog or something”
> 
> [Sam/Steve]

“Sam.” Steve puts his hands on his hips and uses his best Captain America is disappointed in you face. “We talked about this.” 

Sam, who is draped across the couch like he hasn’t a care in the world, doesn’t look particularly intimidated. Neither does the puppy napping on his chest. 

“C’mon, Steve,” Sam says. “Look at how cute she is.” 

She is cute, Steve can’t deny that. But Natalia is an ovcharka–and while that means she’s just a medium sized fluff ball now, she’s still only a month old. A few years down the road, she’s going to give the both of them a run for their money, and Steve is a super soldier. They have to create boundaries now, while she’s still small enough that she has to respect them. 

Steve doesn’t look forward to the wrestling matches that are bound to happen when Natalia decides the couch is hers, thank you very much. 

Natalia shifts and flops over onto her side, still small enough that she doesn’t fall off Sam’s chest onto the floor. She makes a pathetic puppy noise and Steve doesn’t melt–much. 

Sam gives him a knowing look. 

“She’s getting hair all over the couch,” he says, but they both know it’s weak. 

“We can always vacuum it,” Sam says back. 

Steve looks at them, all warm and cuddly on the couch, and feels himself cave. Sam lifts his feet like he knows exactly what Steve is thinking–he probably does–and Steve grumbles but also knows better than to waste an opportunity like this with his husband, even now that they’re both retired. He slides under Sam’s legs and starts massaging his feet when they end up in his lap. They spend the afternoon like that, lazy and content with a sleeping puppy between them, who’s snoring like its her job. 

Years down the road, Steve establishes the couch as a no dog zone, which really just means Natalia gets the loveseat to herself. It works out rather well, because they don’t get many guests, and the ones who do bother do visit don’t mind a little dog hair on their clothes in exchange for massive, fluffy cuddles. 

( **Bonus:**

Natasha: Aw, you named your dog after me? 

[At the same time] Steve: No– Sam: Yes. 

Natasha: *Smirks*)


	6. Not A Morning Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on [my own au post](https://skatzaa.tumblr.com/post/158148947259/au-where-person-a-is-the-chipper-night-security), because I'm struggling with my rbb fic.
> 
> Cross-posted on Tumblr. [Sam/Steve]

Sam knew what he was getting into when he enrolled in veterinary school. 

Or, at least, he thought he did. 

He knew about and was prepared for almost everything. The crippling debt? Check. The overwhelming anxiety? Check. The complete and utter lack of free time? Check. The haughty, holier-than-thou attitudes of his mostly white, mostly female peers? Check. The scatterbrained, sometimes plain cruel natures of his professors? Check. 

The only thing he didn’t take into account (the only thing he couldn’t _know_ to take into account) was Steve Rogers. 

Steve Rogers is the huge, incredibly attractive, forever exuberant night security guard in Sam’s part of the building. Normally, that wouldn’t bother Sam, because he rarely has a reason to visit security. Normally. 

This semester, however, he has to be in there nearly everyday well before 7 AM, because Dr. Levy still hasn’t given Sam a key to the lab, and she doesn’t come in to the school until later in the day. Sam has classes and his surgery rotation later this afternoon, and then he has his job at Domino’s down the street, which he hates but still hasn’t quit because it still pays better than any of the professors in Vet Med. This means that he has to be in the lab to work on his capstone research as early as possible, and that means going to security. 

Sam will admit that he’s not a morning person. He quit his morning jogs as soon as he moved into his own place and Riley couldn’t guilt him into joining him every damn day. It takes about three cups of coffee for him to be fit for any sort of company, and even then it’s better to tread lightly. 

And the only thing he hates more, this early in the morning, than professors who don’t give their third year students keys to the lab so they can do their research whenever they have time, is security guards who are coming off an eight hour night shift and are still chipper. 

It’s unnatural. 

This morning, Sam trudges into the security office, thermos clutched close to his chest, and there’s Steve, seated behind the glass. He’s staring at his computer screen, but he looks up so fast that Sam is pretty sure Steve wasn’t actually doing anything. Steve’s smile is blinding, and he doesn’t even wait for Sam to fish his badge out before he locks up the little office and heads to the lab. He has his little notebook out, writing down Sam’s name like he does everyday, and Sam would be inclined to find it cute, if it weren’t 6:32 in the morning. 

He’ll be inclined to feel a lot more positively about Steve later, once he’s elbow deep in stats and the coffee has really started to kick in. But by that point Steve will have already finished his shift, and Sam won’t see him again until the next day, when the cycle repeats itself. 

Steve chatters about this and that as they walk, and Sam gets away with making quiet sounds instead of actually forming words. He does remember to check out Steve’s unreal shoulders and waist while simultaneously trying to drown himself in his coffee. If he dies, he doesn’t have to deal with Steve Rogers or Dr. Levy or the debt that’s accumulating with every passing second. 

But then Steve stops at the lab doors and pulls out his key ring. He takes longer than necessary to pick out the correct key, since there’s only six of them on the ring, but Sam doesn’t call him on it. Sam just waves in thanks and turns the light on, so he doesn’t trip over Sylvia’s desk chair again. 

“Have a good day, Sam!” Steve says as he turns to go, and Sam is nearly positive he isn’t making up the way Steve’s shoulders droop as he walks away. 

Sam looks down at his thermos, which is nearly empty. He has no excuse, really, to not say anything. He sighs and set the thermos and his bag down. 

“Steve?” He calls, sticking his head out into the hallway again. Steve turns around so fast he nearly falls over. 

“Yeah, Sam?” His big face is so hopeful and open that Sam sort of feels like an ass for not saying something sooner. 

“If we can manage our schedules, would you like to go on a date with me sometime?” 

Steve beams and Sam can’t help but smile back. 

“That would be–” Steve’s watch beeps at him, and he glances down at it before giving Sam a sheepish smile. “I have to run, but that would be great. Maybe we could plan out the details tomorrow?” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam says, and he takes a few extra moments to watch Steve’s ass as he goes. 

The next morning, he isn’t any happier to be at work before sunrise, but he does smile back when Steve sees him, and it seems like a good start to Sam. By the look on Steve’s face, it’s safe to assume he feels the same way.


	7. Wolf Wrestling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by how my mom and step-dad met: wrestling wolves on a mountain. (I'll let you guess which was which.)
> 
> A ficlet from Tumblr. [Sam/Steve]

There are a lot of perks to being chief of police in a small town. Sam knows that. Most of the time, he’s entirely aware of how lucky he is, compared to some of his friends who still work in Boston. There aren’t any gangs in Alexandria, New Hampshire, only a few crackheads, and nothing too weird, if you discount the time he and Riley busted down six of the doors at the local private school due to a miscommunication. 

But his point still stands. Being Chief in Alexandria is great. He knows his citizens and they know them, and they’re more likely to listen to him and vote in his budget than that asshole on the town council, Pierce, is. 

It’s times like this, however, that makes Sam wish he still worked in Boston, because he never had to deal with crazy assholes wrestling wolves while Sam provided cover when he was in Boston. 

They’ve been on the mountain for a day when the state calls in the humane society. Sam’s glad, because he can set up a base of operations faster than anyone in the state, but he has no idea what to do with thirty half-starved wolf hybrids. 

The humane society people roll up at the start of the second day, still before dawn. Sam and Riley roll out of the camper they slept in all night, trying to prevent anyone from coming up the mountain without their permission, and stand at attention as a mini-fleet of trucks pull to a stop. They shut their engines off but leave the headlights on for now, and hop out of the vehicles. 

At the lead is a tall, broad man who, if circumstances were different, Sam wouldn’t hesitate to check out. But Sam is laser focused right now, already dying to get off this mountain, so all he says is, “Are you Rogers?” 

Rogers nods and sticks his hand out. “We have water and food for the dogs, if you want to show us to them.” 

Beside Sam, Riley shakes his head and says, “you can’t go in their with them, they’ll tear you apart.” 

Rogers squares his shoulders. “No, they won’t.” 

*

And they don’t. 

It’s a long process, but Rogers and his people win nearly all of the dogs’ trust eventually. Nine have to be put down, either due to sickness or aggression, but the rest are simply wary and starving. 

Rogers is always the first one into the pens, and Sam, Riley, and Natasha, a loan from nearby Danbury, are left lying in the dog shit and debris with nothing to protect them but their regular gear, tactical rifles trained on the dogs in case they decide today is the day they want to try and eat Rogers. 

They never do, because Rogers is a crazy motherfucker with some sort of wolf hybrid-whispering ability, but Sam never lets his muzzle dip. 

There’s one pent Sam has to ban Rogers from, because the animals there are rabid in a way the others aren’t, always lunging for the fence when anyone draws near. These are some of the dogs they have to put down, and Rogers clenches his jaw every time Sam has to shoot one with a tranquilizer so a vet tech can get in to safely euthanize it. It’s hard, Sam won’t admit it isn’t, but there’s no way for them to help these dogs, and if they let them loose they’ll attack someone. Sam can’t let that happen in his town. 

Rogers is understanding, but he still clenches his jaw and refuses to turn away. 

Once, in mid-September, when they’ve been on the mountain for a month and then some, Sam isn’t on duty. He’s down in the trailer, which is really starting to stink, and Natasha and Riley and Barton, the chief from Bridgewater who came as backup, are meant to be watching Rogers’ back. 

When the yelling starts, Sam is out of the camper before he can even get his shoes back on. He just grabs his rifle and runs. 

Riley and Natasha and the new kid are yelling, holding their guns tight to their shoulders, eyes lined up with their sights. Riley and Natasha are deathly still except for their mouths. Barton is shifting, trying to get a different line of sight, but he can’t get a clear shot lined up. 

None of them can, because Rogers– Steve– he’s _wrestling_ a goddamn fucking wolf-hybrid, rolling around with it in the mud and shit and who knows what else. the dog snaps at Steve’s face, and Sam brings his rifle up before he even knows what he’s doing, but there’s no clean shot. 

The others are still yelling, off to his right, but all Sam can here is the thud of his pulse in his ears and the growling of the animal. He holds his rifle steady and breathes. 

It can’t be more than a few minutes later when Steve manages to get his body around the dog’s, pinning it to the ground. It bucks him, and if Steve were anything but a veritable giant it would have thrown him, but Steve holds on, putting more force on its shoulders and hind end. He makes sure to keep his body away from its head as it writhes on the ground, trying to bite at him again. 

“Tranq,” Steve gasps, and one of the vet techs slips through the gate and sticks the dog with a lose dart before backing up. They all wait for a tense minute or two, and then the dog goes slack. 

Steve stands. He’s covered in the debris of the pen, but he still hovers over the dog for a moment, making sure it’s okay. Only then does he walk out and come to stand near Sam. Up close, Sam can see he’s trembling slight. 

Crazy ass white boy. 

“Rogers,” he says. Steve turns to look at him, and Sam can’t stop the rush of relief he feels, knowing Steve is alive and in one piece. “Go wash off. I’m sure we have some spare clothes you could borrow.” 

Steve glances down and blushes, lightly enough that only Sam can see it with how close he is, and trouping back down to the camper. 

Riley comes up and says, “trying to scar the poor man?” 

Sam makes a face and Riley’s eyebrows go up before he pointedly looks down. Sam looks down. 

In all the excitement, he forgot he had only been wearing a dumb graphic tee and his favorite pair of underwear, the ones with little rainbow trout printed all over them. 

Damn. 

*

A little over a month later, when nearly all of the leaves have turned and fallen from the branches of the trees, Sam texts Steve. 

_Could I take you on a date?_

Steve’s reply is instantaneous. Sam smiles at his phone and gets in the car, plugging the address into his maps app. Steve may be absolutely, bat-shit crazy, but Sam was probably just as bad. He looks forward to finding out.


End file.
